


Shackles

by BeyondTheClouds777



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Love, Crew as Family, Don’t copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks of violence, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, More comfort than hurt, Platonic Relationships, TW: Emotophobia, Team as Family, this started off as a one-shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 05:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18004325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeyondTheClouds777/pseuds/BeyondTheClouds777
Summary: Rin is rescued and begins to heal.





	1. Chapter 1

****_ “Rin!”  _

A bullet is fired, loud enough and piercing enough to make the pounding in Rin’s head skyrocket. With a choked shriek, cut short only by his shredded, abused throat and vocal cords, Rin curls in further on himself, hands buried in his hair, tugging, trying to give himself something else to focus on. 

The cell door opens with a deafening  _ creak  _ and Rin’s heart pounds against his chest, in his ears, through his skull. Someone’s in his cell. Someone’s in his cell. The door is open, he hears footsteps,  _ rushing  _ footsteps. 

They’re going to take him out. They’re going to drag him back to that place, they’re going to pin him down, they’re going to sedate him, they’re going to hurt him, they’re going to  _ tear him apart—  _

He’s touched. Grabbed by the shoulder. Every instinct screams, every nerve sends rivets of pain through every inch of his body, leaving no stone unturned, and Rin  _ lashes.  _ He’s so scared, he’s so hurt, he’d do anything to make them stop hurting him, he’d do anything, he’d do anything,  _ please—  _

“Rin, Rin, it’s okay, it’s just me. Rin, please. Come back to me,  _ please.”  _

That’s…?

_ “N… No,”  _ he gasps out, voice strangled and choked. His eyes burn from the pain. He can’t move, he can barely speak, all he can do is wheeze and choke and,  _ “You aren’t him. I’m not… I’m not falling for it again… I’m not going to fall for it again, you bastards…”  _

“Rin, it’s me, I swear to you,  _ please—”  _

_ “I’m not falling for it!”  _ he shrieks, shrinking back, tail curling around his midsection, fingernails scraping the grimy stone floor of his cell. “You’re not my brother, you bastards! Get away from me!  _ Get away from me!”  _

His flames ignite feebly, but only for a moment before fizzling out. With a dry, heaving sob as bile burns the back of his tortured throat, he slumps against the wall, knowing. He can’t stop them, no matter what he does. They’re going to break his bones again, they’re going to stab him, they’re going to laugh and taunt and kick him, they’re going to abuse his regenerative abilities just like they did before. 

And he’ll be too weak to stop them.

_ “P… Please…”  _ His eyes burn. And who cares. “Just… just kill me. Please, just kill me.” 

A quiet gasp. “Rin—” 

_ Heh.  _ Like they’d trick him with that. “If you’re gonna keep tormenting me like this, then… please,” he whispers, voice barely there. “Just kill me and get it over with, you  _ sick—”  _

_ “Nii-san.”  _

His head snaps up without his consent. A blurry gaze reveals to him the face of his younger brother, kneeling  _ just  _ out of his reach, gun lost on the floor behind him. Tears shimmer in his eyes and the sight of them sends Rin’s heart right into his throat. 

“Nii-san, please, it’s me,” Yukio pleads, inching a little closer and holding out his hand. “It’s me, I promise you. I’m here to get you out, I’m  _ here.”  _

Rin chokes on the blood and tears in his throat, pressing his back against the wall further. He can’t get his hopes up. The last time he got his hopes up, they stabbed him in the back.  _ Literally.  _

“No, no no no no, you’re not him,” Rin stammers, scrambling for purchase, trying to push himself into the wall even further. “No, nononono, you’re not him, you’re not going to trick me again, you’re not going to trick me again you’re  _ not—”  _

_ “Nii-san.”  _

Yukio reaches out and  _ gently,  _ ever,  _ ever  _ so gently, touches Rin’s cheek. The cuts and bruises there sting, but the touch does not. Yukio’s hand is warm, soft, careful, gentle,  _ familiar.  _

Rin can’t help it. He meets Yukio’s gaze with wide, tearful eyes, the smallest spark of hope igniting in his heart. 

“Y… Yukio…?” 

The tears in Yukio’s eyes breaks his heart, but Yukio smiles just as they begin to fall. “Yes, Nii-san, it’s me. I’m going to get you out of here.” 

Rin’s fear shatters like glass smashed into a hardwood floor, and the dam breaks just as hard and just as quickly. Everything rushes back to him; his tormentors, their gnashing teeth and villainous, inhuman grins, the regenerative abilities that amused them so, that wouldn’t let them end it all, their sickly, gleeful laughs at every time he struggled, every time he snapped at their faces that help was coming. Every time they punished him for trying to escape. 

Yukio’s arms snake around Rin’s shoulders and Rin falls into them, chest and shoulders heaving with desperate, wrenching sobs. Yukio pulls him closer, holds him tighter. Rin buries his face into his brother’s shoulder, nails grasping fistfuls of his shirt. 

“It’s okay,” Yukio breathes, a promise, tears dripping like soft rain into Rin’s hair. “It’s okay, I’m here. We’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, it’s  _ okay—”  _

Rin chokes, chest burning with each gasping, heaving sob and cry. He’s sure his regenerative abilities aren’t what they used to be. There’s no doubt in his mind that he has leftover damage from all the times he’d hurt. From all the times he’d  _ been  _ hurt in an attempt to purely make him suffer. He feels the echo of pain in every heaving sob and desperate inhale. 

But there’s a silver lining to every bit of pain, now. His brother’s arms around him. The promise that they’re leaving this place. The fact that he’s being allowed to cry now, that he’s being allowed to choke and cough and sob and  _ cling,  _ and Yukio never tells him to let go or pushes him away. In fact, it seems with every ragged breath and wrenched cry, Yukio holds him closer, tighter. 

A trembling hand drags itself over his heaving back, the pressure just enough to draw Rin back into reality. 

“Shh, okay, okay, Rin,” Yukio says softly, but authoritatively. His “I’m a doctor” voice. “I need you to breathe, alright? C’mon, breathe.”

Breathe? 

“Y-Yukio—” 

“I know, I’m asking a lot,” Yukio says, still running his hand along Rin’s spine. It’s meant as a soothing, comforting, calming motion, and it’s working. “But you need to try and calm down, just for now, alright? C’mon. Just breathe, and let me handle the rest.” 

Rin is too scared and relieved to make any sort of smartass retort back at him. He becomes acutely aware of his breathing—or, mainly, the lack thereof—and under Yukio’s gentle ministrations and soothing, guiding words, Rin begins to draw in one even breath after the other, each one a bit steadier than the last. 

“There, okay. Okay, okay, good. Good. You did good, Nii-san, keep breathing.” 

Yukio must  _ really _ be scared, because Rin doesn’t think he’s ever heard such a tone from his brother before. Even though Rin’s ears still ring, he can pick up the concern in his brother’s voice, the panic, the  _ relief. _

The tears. 

“Y… Yukio…” 

“It’s alright,” Yukio promises, hand drifting from Rin’s back and up into his hair. Rin knows his hair is a long and matted mess, but Yukio threads his fingers through it continuously, like it’s no big deal. “I’m gonna blast your chains off and then we’ll go, okay? We’re getting out of here.” 

It seems like such an incredible, impossible feat. Leaving this place. Rin had tried time, time and time again with no luck. Is it possible? 

But, he can trust Yukio. If there’s one thing, one  _ person  _ in this damned world that Rin knows he can count on, rely on for anything, it’s his brother. Even though Rin’s the oldest. Even though Rin is supposed to be the strongest. He can’t bring himself to care. 

Yukio’s promise is what Rin holds onto right now. 

He nods, shakily, but clings tighter when Yukio pulls away. Even though he  _ knows  _ what Yukio is doing, even though he knows Yukio is just getting the shackles off, he can’t bring himself to let  _ go—  _

“Rin, it’s okay. I’ll be right back, I swear, I just need to get these chains off. C’mon, I’ll be right back.” 

The next time Yukio pulls away, Rin is too weak to do much else than slump against the wall and wheeze. He can feel the rasp of his breath with every inhale and exhale, and the sharp pain in his ribs isn’t reassuring at all. 

Four rapid-session fires of Yukio’s gun and the chains snap off the wall, off the floor, and lie there like limp snakes, trailing from Rin’s wrists. Yukio returns to him immediately, sheathing his weapon and reaching toward him to steady his shoulders. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, so we’ll remove the shackles properly once we’ve gotten out of the cell,” Yukio says, tugging Rin gently, prompting. “Do you think you can walk?” 

“Walk…” 

Rin can’t remember the last time he’d walked. Recently, he’d had to be dragged about by his captors, too unsteady to move on his own.  _ Could  _ he walk? He wants to say that he can, but… 

“That’s alright,” Yukio assures, reading him before Rin can even say a word. “It’s alright, I can carry you. Hang in there, okay? Try not to fall asleep if you can help it.” 

Rin nods shakily, and Yukio shifts from in front of him to beside him. One arm moves around Rin’s still-trembling shoulders, and the other arm slides behind Rin’s knees. He hasn’t even moved yet, but Rin’s arms instinctively go to wrap around Yukio’s neck, heedless of the aching pain that comes echoing through his abused nerves. 

Yukio doesn’t mind in the slightest. It’s like he doesn’t even notice. “On three, alright? Don’t forget to breathe.” 

Rin nods. 

“Okay. One—two—three—” 

With a heave, Yukio hauls Rin up into his arms, clutching him to his chest. Heat and nausea rush into Rin’s head in a dizzying wave, and his head lolls to the side, thudding gently against Yukio’s shoulder.

“Rin?” 

“I-I’m okay,” Rin manages. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this light-headed before in his entire life. “H… Headrush…” 

“Breathe,” Yukio reminds, gently but with authority. 

Rin does. And slowly but surely, the nausea dwindles down into something more manageable, something he can ignore. He doesn’t lift his head from Yukio’s shoulder, but the rush has subsided. Breathing has never been easier. 

“You ready?” 

To move. To flee. To leave this place behind him forever. 

It seems too good to be true, but when Rin nods shakily, Yukio draws him closer and walks out of the cell, down the lantern-lined hallway, not even faltering with Rin’s added weight. Down the hallway they venture, the soft, rhythmic thuds of Yukio’s feet and the feel of his heartbeat against Rin’s ear tugging him into a deep sense of ease and comfort. 

The open air almost sends him directly into shock when they hit it. It’s such a cold, fresh breath of air, so different from the stuffy, humid cell he’d spent an undeterminable passage of time in. He hadn’t realized how suffocating that room had been until he made it out here. 

Yukio is shouting, but not at him. 

“Shiemi, quickly! Come here!” 

“O-Oh my gosh, Rin! Is he—?” 

“He’s alright, but he needs help. Rin—” Now he’s speaking to him, in a voice much softer than before, “I’m going to set you down now, alright? Shiemi will take over for me for a bit, I’ll be right back.” 

Rin doesn’t really want to let go, but he knows it’s for the best. The sooner Shiemi sees him, the sooner Rin can be healed and the sooner he can get back to his normal self. He nods, and Yukio slowly lowers him to the ground. Rin’s befuddled, agonized brain draws a contrast to all the times he’d been thrown in his cell carelessly by his captors, laughed at when he couldn’t stay on his feet for more than a second, kicked in the ribs for their amusement. 

Yukio settles him on something soft. It isn’t warm, but it isn’t uncomfortable, either. It’s gentle, soft, like one of the sick beds in the infirmary back at the school. A cot? A futon? 

Yukio’s hand finds his and squeezes gently. His other hand comes to rest on Rin’s forehead, smoothing his hair out of his face. “I’ll be back. Shiemi—” 

“I’ve got him,” Shiemi promises, and while there are tears in her voice, they’re overwhelmed by determination and promise. “You go, get everyone ready to leave. He’s in safe hands.” 

Yukio nods, releases Rin’s hand, and turns away. Shiemi’s face swims into view, right by his. She’s kneeling, already calling to Nee-chan to assist her with what herbs she needs, as well as fetch some bandages and gauze from elsewhere. 

“Rin.” Shiemi’s gentle fingers touch his face, pulling his hair back from his forehead and temples. She bites her lip, tears swirling in her eyes. “Oh, you must be in so much pain… I’m so  _ sorry, _ Rin...” 

He doesn’t know how he does it, but he smiles weakly and somehow manages to reach up, catching her hand with his own. She jumps, startled, but doesn’t pull away. 

“I’ll be okay,” Rin says, not just to her, but to himself, too. “After all, you’re here now, aren’t you? I’m in safe hands.” 

The first of her tears fall, but she  _ beams.  _

Nee-chan returns, and the first thing Shiemi does is force some questionable concoction down his throat. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t ask why, and soon enough, he doesn’t even  _ have  _ to. Whatever he’d drank, it brought with it a cooling, healing sensation that started with his throat and soon spread through the rest of his body, all the way to the tips of his toes. He has no doubt it’s simply a painkiller. Something to keep him calm while she does the dirty work. 

But it’s comfort. And comfort is something he hasn’t had in a very,  _ very  _ long time. 

“Bon!” 

He hears her voice from what feels like far away, and soon Bon’s footsteps reach his ears as well. Bon kneels across from her by his side, but he doesn’t actually  _ look  _ at Rin for very long. His eyes are on Shiemi, shimmering a bit, but determined to do whatever she instructs. 

“Hold him up,” Shiemi says, spreading some sort of blue-tinted green salve over the gauze. “I need to wrap his chest.” 

“Got it.” Bon focuses on him, now, gently slipping an arm beneath his shoulders. “Oy, Blueberry. Is this alright?” 

Rin hums. “S’fine, Shiemi gave me a… pain-killing thing. As if you could hurt me, anyway…” 

Bon clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes, but there’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face, and the care with which he lifts Rin doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Unfortunately, the pressure in his head leaves him nauseous and dizzy again, and he’s sent pitching to the side. Bon catches him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other pressing his head against his chest and holding it there. 

“Oy, easy,  _ easy,  _ you damn idiot. Don’t go passing out on us, alright?” 

“Tryin’ my best here,” Rin murmurs back. It feels so nice to just. Close his eyes. And not worry about being hurt. “Sorry. I’m just—” 

“No.” The arm around his shoulders tightens, and what had once been a steadying grip turns into something more friendly. Like an embrace. “Don’t. Don’t apologize for anything. None of what happened to you was your fault. Like  _ hell.”  _

Rin can’t help but smile a bit at that, even though it’s weak and he knows it’ll fade soon. His emotions are whack. His headspace… what  _ is  _ his headspace? He’s so worn and exhausted and hurt but also  _ content.  _

“Y’know, Bon… I missed you. And you, too, Shiemi. I… missed all of you…” 

“Oh,  _ Rin.”  _ Shiemi’s hand comes to his face again, brushing back his hair. It’s nice, but she’s crying now, which hurts. “We missed you, too, we missed you so  _ much…”  _

“I hate to say it, Blueberry,” Bon says, voice thick, “but, yeah. It wasn’t the same without your dorky ass. We were—damn it, we were so  _ friggin worried  _ about you.” 

Rin can’t help but laugh shakily. It hurts, it  _ really hurts,  _ and he has to stop before he’s ready, but. He laughed. He can laugh. 

“Sorry,” he manages with as bright of a smile he can muster—which probably isn’t all that bright, but. At least it’s a smile. “Didn’t mean to worry you guys. But, thank you. For saving me.” 

Bon clicks his tongue again, Shiemi smiles, and soon she’s pulling up his shirt and wrapping his chest and stomach. Bon doesn’t once let him go, not until Shiemi has bandaged all that she needs to. Then, Rin is lowered onto the futon again, gently, and he breathes. 

“Alright.” Bon’s hand squeezes his shoulder. It’s probably the one thing that isn’t completely beaten beyond repair. “Alright, what now, Shiemi?” 

“Yukio went to round up the others,” Shiemi informs, absentmindedly stroking Rin’s hair. She’s making it very hard for him to keep his promise to Yukio about staying awake. His eyes slip shut. “Then we’ll leave.” 

“Alright, so—oy, Blueberry.” 

“Hng…?” 

“Good, you’re still with us. Don’t fall asleep.” 

_ “Hnnnng.”  _

“Actually,” Shiemi says, “I-I think it might be okay for him to sleep, for a bit. His breathing and heart rate are almost completely back to normal, and he doesn’t seem to have sustained any serious head trauma. B-Besides, I treated his injuries. I think the best thing for him now is sleep.” 

_ Oh, thank God.  _

_ Wait, no, don’t.  _

“I’m not saying I doubt you, Shiemi,” says Bon, “but I’d feel better about it if Yukio cleared it first. Just to be safe.” 

Shiemi doesn’t argue, even though Rin kind of wishes she would on his behalf. He’s  _ exhausted,  _ and this is the first time he’s been almost pain-free for as long as he can remember. He just wants to sleep. 

“Sorry, Rin. Just hang in there a while longer, yeah? And then you can sleep as much as you want.” 

Okay. Okay, he can do that. He’d hung on for so long already, what're five more minutes? 

Except, he must’ve drifted in and out of consciousness anyway, because he remembers the rest of it in clips. Yukio returns, Bon carries him; there’s a ship parked in the harbor that he doesn’t remember being there; then they’re on board, Yukio is worried, asking him if he’s alright, if he can drink something. He thinks he drinks it, but he doesn’t remember the taste. Probably water. Maybe medicine. Who knows. Who  _ cares.  _

* * *

_ “This shouldn’t hurt you one bit, should it? No… you don’t feel anything, do you? Just a merciless demon… you wouldn’t feel pain if it stabbed you in the gut. Actually… let’s try that, shall we?” _

 

_ “Just as I thought. You’re a monster. You can’t feel this pain, really, can you? Stop pretending it hurts. I know what you are. You aren’t human.”  _

 

_ “You’re going to pay! On behalf of all your kind, you’re going to pay! For all the suffering you demons have caused, I’m going to make you pay it back tenfold! And I’m going to do it again, and again, and again, until you understand the pain you’ve caused—!”  _

 

“Rin— _ Rin!”  _

It’s not that he doesn’t know where he is, when he comes to. He knows exactly where he is, he knows he was rescued, he knows he’s no longer  _ there,  _ but the memories are as fresh and as real as his wounds, and nausea pools and builds in his stomach and rises in his throat, until— 

He doesn’t remember Yukio pushing a bucket into his lap, but he remembers heaving into it. His brother sits beside him on the edge of the mattress, holding his shoulders to steady him, mindful of the bandages and the wounds. Rin chokes and coughs and his throat  _ burns,  _ but his stomach settles once it’s empty. Even though the nausea hasn’t subsided, the dry-heaving has. Small victories. He’ll take every one he can get. 

Yukio’s hand draws gentle circles into his back. “Finished?” 

He nods shakily, and Yukio pulls the bucket from his hands and settles it on the floor beside the bed. 

“Alright. We’ll leave it there just in case.” 

Rin nods again, a chill rippling up his spine. He’s shirtless, and each strip of gauze stands out like a sore thumb in the darkness. There’s a small lantern hanging on the wall, swaying with the ship’s movements, but that’s the only light they have. 

Yukio’s hand moves to palm his forehead, and he sighs heavily. “Just as I thought,” he murmurs, disappointed. “You have a fever. A high one, at that.” 

Rin can’t help but lean into his brother’s hand, even if just a little. His body is sending mixed signals; some of him thinks he’s cold, the rest of him thinks he’s burning. He doesn’t know which one to trust. But, Yukio is here. He can trust Yukio. 

Yukio sighs again, moving his hand down from Rin’s forehead to his shoulder. “I don’t want to give you anything yet,” he says, “since you’ll probably bring it back up, but— hang on. Lie back.” 

Rin doesn’t have to be told twice. Yukio lowers him, and Rin lets gravity do the rest of the work until he can curl on his side, tail coming to wrap around him. Yukio pulls the covers up to his shoulders before rising to his feet. His retreating footsteps are haunting, and if Rin hadn’t been so drained, he’s sure he would’ve called out to him, but Yukio returns just as soon as he’d left, this time with a cold plaster to be placed on Rin’s forehead. It brings a cool, soothing sensation that has him sighing in relief. 

Yukio chuckles softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I take it that’s helping?” 

Rin nods, already closing his eyes. His nausea hasn’t been completely satisfied yet, but he should be okay as long as he stays calm. 

Yukio sighs again, feeling Rin’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Your body’s probably in shock,” he murmurs. “You’ve been under so much stress and strain that it doesn’t know how to respond to anything else.” 

“Nnnm. S’...what?” 

“It means,” Yukio says, withdrawing his hand, “that we’re going to need to look after you closely until you’ve made a full recovery. Your fever concerns me.” 

He feels Rin’s forehead again, just beside the plaster. Usually, Rin would be annoyed by all the fussing, but now he relishes every gentle touch and soothing gesture. He’ll never complain about Yukio’s mother-henning ever again. 

“Well. That’s all later. For now, just try and get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need me, alright?” 

Rin nods shakily, and Yukio threads his fingers through his hair until he drops into a much more peaceful sleep. No memories come to haunt his dreams this time. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a warning beforehand, Rin talks a little bit about what happened to him while he was captive and it's definitely more intense than chapter 1. Nothing goes beyond the fic's established rating, but yeah, it's. A lot. So keep that in mind while reading. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support of this story so far! Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

**** A door clicks and swings open. 

_ “Really, you’re asleep? How human of you. But you can’t fool us. Get up.”  _

Rin snaps awake with an involuntary jolt and flinch. It sends a shooting ribbon of pain straight through his chest and to his skull, and he has to clench his teeth to keep from making a sound. The pain doesn’t subside even when he’s lying still. His fingernails dig into his palms, hard enough to draw blood.

_ “Shit—Rin!”  _

Footsteps. 

_ “Get up already. Demons don’t have the luxury of sleep. Either you get up on your own, or we’ll make you.”  _

_ “... No? Have it your way.”  _

A hand on his shoulder. It doesn’t hurt but it’s  _ going  _ to, and Rin  _ shrieks  _ and pushes himself away. His abused body screams in pain, twisting his nerves and distilling his reality. His vision goes white and his eyes burn. 

The hand on his shoulder is gone, but it’s replaced by a voice. A voice that, somehow, manages to cut through the rest of the haze. 

“Rin, oh god, Rin, please stop, you’re hurting yourself more, _ stop—” _

Is that…?  _ Bon?  _ Why’s he here? He shouldn’t be here, right? The exorcists only took Rin, Bon shouldn’t be here,  _ oh god they got him, they got him too _ —

“Rin—”

“I’m sorry,” Rin gasps out, curling against the wall, tail flicking against his legs. “I’m sorry, Bon, you weren’t supposed to get involved, you aren’t supposed to  _ be here—” _

“Blueberry what the  _ he— _ oh…”   

A weight dips the mattress beside him—wait, mattress? How long has he had that? He doesn’t remember them giving him one.  _ Would  _ they? Another trick, probably—and a hand finds his shoulder again. Bon’s hand. 

“Rin, you aren’t there anymore. We… we got you  _ out  _ of there, remember? We’re on a ship heading home right now, you’re alright, man.” 

He... got out...? When…?  

_ “Shit,  _ your fever got worse—okay, I’m gonna run and get Yukio-sensei—”

His hand moves and Rin doesn’t really remember making the decision, but he reaches out and curls his fingers around Bon’s wrist, stopping him. Rin’s vision is still a white haze with a blurry silhouette of what he can only  _ assume  _ is Bon, but he ignores that. 

“I-Is everyone okay?” Rin gasps, desperate. “Please, tell me—no one else got caught, right? N-No one else is there, they’re—they’re all  _ safe,  _ r-right? They’re okay?” 

Bon inhales sharply, but instead of pulling away, he moves in close again. “Yeah. We’re alright. We’re  _ all  _ alright. Don’t worry about us anymore, got it? You’ve got enough to think about already without worrying about us.” 

The adrenaline fades and leaves Rin exhausted and lightheaded, and when Bon gives his shoulders a push, he falls back into the mattress and is asleep in moments. 

* * *

The next time he wakes up, he actually knows where he is. He isn’t in  _ pain  _ anymore, but his surroundings are fuzzy and he isn’t really sure what he’s feeling. Shiemi probably gave him more of those pain-relievers. He doesn’t feel  _ great,  _ but he doesn’t feel  _ completely  _ terrible, either.

“You a little more there this time, Blueberry?” 

Rin tilts his head toward the voice. Bon is sitting on a stool just by his bed, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t look much different than usual, but Rin doesn’t miss the traces of concern on his face. 

Rin nods shakily and shifts, trying to position his arms enough to support his weight—but Bon is right there, shoving him back down by his shoulders. 

_ “Don’t,”  _ Bon hisses, irritated. “Don’t you  _ dare move.”  _

“What gives…?” Rin murmurs weakly. He doesn’t even feel much like putting up a fight. “It can’t be that bad…” 

“Shiemi doesn’t want you moving,” says Bon. “She can’t safely give you any more of that pain stuff without your body reacting badly to it, so you’re gonna have to make it through the rest of the trip with what’s already in you. If you keep aggravating your injuries, it’s not gonna last.” 

It takes a couple of moments for Rin’s fogged mind to register it. He nods. “Sorry ‘bout that. I won’t move.” 

Bon sighs, shaking his head. “Thought I told you not to apologize for any of this, idiot.” 

“Hnn. Guess you did. Forgot.” 

Bon sighs again, heavier this time, but doesn’t argue. “C’mon, lemme help you up for a sec.” 

Rin scowls, but his heart isn’t fully behind it. “Thought you just said that I can’t move.” 

“Yeah,  _ you  _ can’t move. But I can sit you up. Yukio said you’re dehydrated, we’ve gotta get you to drink something while you’re awake or your fever will just keep getting worse.” 

Rin blinks tiredly. “Do I… still have a fever?” 

“Yep. You probably don’t feel it thanks to Shiemi, but yeah, you’re pretty damn hot right now.” 

“Thanks.” 

“That’s it, I’m never being nice to you again.” 

Rin cracks a weak smile. Bon slips his hands under his shoulders and, on the count of three, pulls Rin upright and props him against a mound of pillows behind his back. The headrush isn’t  _ that  _ bad this time, but it’s enough for Rin to have to catch his breath afterward.

“Whoa, hey, you good?” 

“Thought y’said you weren’t gonna be nice to me again.” 

“I lied. Here.” Bon presses an uncapped water bottle into his hand, curling Rin’s fingers around it until Rin has enough coherency to hold it himself. “Drink as much as you can.” 

“Aye aye, Cap'n.” 

Bon rolls his eyes and scoffs. 

Rin gets through about a third of the water bottle before his head spins and his stomach tries forcing itself out of his throat, but thankfully he doesn’t actually throw up this time and Bon sets the water bottle off to the side for whenever. Once his stomach settles a bit, Rin admits that, yeah, the water was nice. He doesn’t look forward to drinking again, but at least he _has_ water now. 

“Thanks,” Rin breathes, eyes slipping shut again. “Sorry you guys have to… deal with all this.” 

Bon is dead silent. Rin isn’t worried; maybe Bon just ignored him because he apologized again. Maybe he’s thinking. Maybe he doesn’t know what to say. 

“... Rin.” 

“Mmnn?” 

“Rin what the  _ hell  _ did they do to you.” 

Rin cracks his eyes open, more awake now. He tries to meet Bon’s eyes, but Bon’s gaze is turned towards the floor. “I… where’d that come from?” 

“You never apologize for dumb shit like that,” Bon says, fingers curled into fists, “you never—you haven’t put up  _ one single fight  _ since we got you out of there, you never even  _ tried  _ picking a fight. It’s not  _ like  _ you, it’s  _ so  _ not like you, I—what the  _ hell did they do?”  _

… Oh. 

Rin takes in a breath through his nose. Sleeping doesn’t sound so nice anymore. 

“... Do you… really want to know?” 

Bon’s fists tremble. Rin thinks about it for a long while, unsure. On one hand, the memories, the images, they’re so  _ fresh.  _ He isn’t sure he can handle them. But on the other hand, maybe getting it out there would be nice. Maybe he’d be able to leave it behind, finally. Or at least, begin to. 

“They… didn’t like me,” Rin says softly, trying not to pair the words with the memories in his head. “At all. They were a bunch of exorcists who’d teamed together in an attempt to… I dunno, wipe any and all demons out of the world I guess. Dunno what kind of powers they had or what they specialized in, but—I would’ve been able to take ‘em on individually, but there were a lot of them. And, since they were all after the same goal, I—I didn’t really stand that much of a chance.”

“Rin, you don’t have to—” 

“Their favorite thing to do was break my ribs,” Rin says hoarsely, and he can’t help but relive the sensation, the pain, the struggle. “My regenerative abilities healed them the fastest since it could’ve easily wrecked my organs, and I couldn’t really breathe while they were broken. The exorcists knew it. They did it until my abilities were exhausted. And then they laughed.”

“Rin, listen—” 

“My abilities healed it, eventually,” Rin says. “The exorcists gave me just enough time to recuperate before doing it again. It wasn’t all they did. They liked, uhh—they liked hurting me in a lot of different ways. But, it was their favorite thing to do. Breaking my bones. S-Sick  _ bastards—”  _

_ “Rin.”  _

Bon catches him by the shoulders, and it’s only here that Rin realizes he’d started to cry. 

“... H…  _ Huh,”  _ Rin chokes, bringing a hand to brush away his tears. It doesn’t matter how many he wipes away, there’s always more to replace them. “Sorry about…  _ d-dammit,  _ I can’t—” 

They’d never let him cry, either. Told him emotions were for humans. That he didn’t deserve them. There’s something in him that says to cut it out before they see, cut it out before they make him, cut it out before they punish him for daring to cry—

But Bon yanks him forward, not to hurt him, but to embrace him. His injuries ache, but don’t burn. There’s no kick or hit or angry bark, just. An embrace. And maybe he should be questioning it more because it’s  _ Bon  _ and Bon doesn’t  _ do  _ embraces, but it’s such a nice change that he doesn’t dare. He’s crying, and he’s  _ hugged.  _

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve asked,” Bon says, clutching him almost impossibly tight, as though he’s the one who needs the reassurance and not Rin. “I should’ve known it would be too soon to talk about, I shouldn’t’ve said anything—” 

Rin laughs hoarsely, chokes in a sob that springs into his throat, and buries his face further into Bon’s shoulder. He wants to say that it’s okay, he wants to tell Bon that this is helping, but maybe he doesn’t need to. Maybe hugging him tighter says enough. 

Maybe Bon already knows. 

* * *

When Shiemi goes to check on Rin later on that afternoon, she finds him and Bon sitting on the bed, Bon leaned back against the frame and tapping away at his phone while Rin sleeps, resting heavily against Bon’s shoulder.

Bon’s head snaps up. His wide eyes meet Shiemi’s. 

“Not a word.”

Shiemi smiles and presses her index finger to her lips. Bon relaxes. 

* * *

The medications wear off about two-thirds of the way home. And as grateful as Yukio is that they’ve gotten this far with the medications, as the night of their second day at sea falls, it couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Shiemi has been giving Rin a dose filled with several different herbs with different properties. Some of them were for fever, some of them were for pain, some of them were to keep him asleep. But they were short-lived fixes, the medicine such that it could not be administered too often, or it would have long-lasting negative effects. 

So. 

“I’m sorry there isn’t more I can do,” Shiemi whimpers softly as she rises from her stool by Rin’s side and meets Yukio halfway. “I-I tried more mild herbs, but they don’t seem to be helping at all anymore.” 

Yukio glances over her shoulder at his brother, lying flat on his back on one of the cots. The rest of the cots are empty; the lantern has been moved from the doorway to instead sit on the floor by his bed, so they could watch him more closely. 

Yukio forces a smile and settles his hand on Shiemi’s shoulder. “You’ve done so much for him, Shiemi,” he promises, squeezing gently. “It’s because of you we’ve made it this far. I’ll take over now, alright? Get some rest.” 

She meets his eyes before turning to look at Rin one final time, but she nods unhappily, makes him promise to retrieve her if he thinks of anything else she can do, and heads off toward her quarters. Yukio waits until the door shuts behind her before making his way to his brother’s side, taking a seat on the stool Shiemi had previously occupied. 

Rin is in bad shape. To put it very lightly. (If he puts it any darker, even to himself, it leaves an uneasy pit in his stomach and an unbearable weight on his shoulders.) He’s better off than when they originally found him; Shiemi had washed some of the blood and grime from his hair while he was still out of it, and all his wounds have been appropriately treated and bandaged. Yukio was surprised but relieved by the minimal amount of infections; at least they weren’t influencing his already terribly high fever. 

But aside from that, Rin  _ is  _ feverish. The only color in his face is an unhealthy flush, and a painful wheeze follows each inhale and exhale. Bon had filled Yukio in, told him what Rin had said; Yukio hoped there’d be no lasting damage to his ribcage, but if his breathing is any indication, there’s definitely still damage there, and it’s causing a lot of pain. 

Yukio reaches out and removes the rag from Rin’s forehead (it’s humid, now), refreshing it in a basin of water on the side table. Just as Yukio is about to return it, Rin stirs and cracks his eyes open. 

There’s a  _ split second  _ in which Yukio’s mind races. His fever is higher now than it’s ever been, he’s arguably in more  _ pain  _ than he’s ever been, now that he’s saved and his body is no longer in  _ survive, just survive  _ mode, and he keeps confusing what was and what’s now. His reality is caught between the torment he’d escaped from and the safety he now rests in. 

But  _ then,  _ Rin’s glassy, fever-bright eyes fall on Yukio, and there’s not a single trace of panic or fear or confusion. “Yuki…” he breathes, and while his voice is barely there and his breath is wispy, at least he’s coherent. 

It’s worse when he isn’t. When he pushes himself against the wall and curls in on himself, fingers tugging at his hair and face hidden in his arms as he braces himself for whatever hit he’d been expecting. When he begs them to stop, thinking they’re someone else. When he mistakes their gentle hands for weapons, things meant to hurt him. When he hurts himself further in an attempt to escape. 

But somehow he’s coherent, now. And it’s the one blessing Yukio has. 

“Hey,” Yukio says, voice barely rising above a whisper. He settles the cool rag across Rin’s forehead again and doesn’t miss his small sigh of relief. “How’s your pain?” 

Rin blinks slowly, then swallows. “It’s… t… tolerable.” 

Lies. And Yukio is fairly certain Rin knows how transparent he is right now. 

“You can be honest with me,” Yukio says, reaching out to rest a hand on Rin’s head. His hair is still greasy, but at least most the blood and grime has been washed away. “You don’t have to hide anything, Rin, it’s alright. You can show weakness now.” 

Rin releases what sounds like a pained, choked sob, teeth clenched and eyes wet. “I should’ve been able to get myself out of there,” he stains, sounding strangled, and every word sounds like it requires a tremendous amount of effort to produce. “I-I should’ve fought back harder, I-I should’ve—”

“You  _ did _ fight hard,” Yukio cuts in, finding his brother’s hand and squeezing it. “You fought harder than any of us.”

Rin blinks watering eyes at him again, but a small, pained smile upturns his lips, and Yukio returns the gesture as he wipes the tears from his brother’s flushed cheeks. 

“I actually feel terrible. I-It’s… p-pretty unbearable.” 

“I know.” Yukio brushes back Rin’s hair from his sweaty face. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s… not your fault,” Rin strains, before clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, body seizing up as a wave of pain crashes over him. Yukio bites his lip, running his fingers lightly through Rin’s hair. His other hand, clutched in Rin’s, is squeezed tightly. 

The wave ends, eventually, and Rin loosens his grip on Yukio’s hand and gasps for breath. The wisp is still there, only now it’s worse. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Yukio asks, maintaining hold of his brother’s hand if just to reassure him he’s still there, that it’s alright. 

Rin takes some time to breathe before answering. “Not… not really,” he says. “W-What you’re doing now is… it… it’s helping.” 

“I’m glad.” He releases Rin’s hand just long enough for him to refresh the rag on his head. Rin shuts his eyes while he breathes with forced steadiness, and Yukio bites his lip again, thinking. 

“Hey, Nii-san.”

“Hn…?” 

“There’s someone who’s been wanting to see you,” Yukio murmurs. “We’ve kept them out for now, because we wanted to make sure you’d stabilized, but… maybe they’ll make you feel a little better.” 

Rin cracks open one eye to look at him. His gaze is exhausted and bloodshot, but he nods, and Yukio fishes his phone from his pocket and dials a number. 

“Hey, Shiemi? Yeah, you can let her in now. Thanks.” 

He hangs up, Rin watching with mute confusion. “You’ll see,” Yukio assures, smiling. “She’s been getting pretty impatient with us. Almost broke down the door a few times to get to you.” 

“She’s…?” Rin blinks at him again, exhaustion plain. But then the door opens, and in rushes Kuro, tails flicking behind her, eyes wide. 

The warmth that floods Rin’s eyes brings a smile to Yukio’s face. 

“K… Kuro,” Rin murmurs weakly, but there’s a hint of something in his tone that hasn’t been there before. Kuro mrrows at him excitedly and bounces up on the bed beside him, mindful to avoid his chest. She steps over his arm, nuzzles his tearstained face, and he laughs hoarsely and strokes her fur. “Hey, hey, yeah, I missed you too. Hmm…? Sorry, can you…? Oh, I’m okay. ...What…?” 

She knocks her nose against his with what Yukio assumes is a chastising something in his mind, because he laughs softly and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, you’re right, okay. I feel pretty wrecked. ...Huh…? Oh, y-yeah, you can still cuddle with me, just… stay off my chest, alright?” 

Kuro takes that as an “okay” to curl up right where she is between his neck and shoulder, and Rin smiles, turning his head just enough to bury his nose in her fur.

“I missed you, too, Kuro…” 

Yukio’s smile turns soft, and warmth floods his chest. They’d brought Kuro along on the off-chance that they’d require her assistance in seeking out Rin or maybe fighting off the rest of the exorcists, but now Yukio is just glad they’d brought her overall. Kuro has been a great source of companionship for Rin, and maybe her voice in his head will help chase out the feverish night terrors. That  _ would  _ be nice.

* * *

Yukio would love to say they’re past the worst of it. He’d love to  _ be  _ past the worst of it. But as night carries on and things only continue to progress for the worst, he knows it’s going to be a long night.

The team is all there; Yukio, Bon, Shiemi, Kuro. Rin has been sleeping fitfully on and off for the past couple of hours with a fever that never lets him rest and pain that won’t leave him be. Kuro’s voice brings him out of whatever terrors befall his fever-addled mind, but that’s the one comfort they can supply. They can’t do anything about his pain and very little for his fever. Yukio is thankful they’re so close to the mainland, because he isn’t sure Rin would be able to make it through another night on this ship. 

Shiemi returns to Yukio’s side with a basin of fresh water, and Yukio wastes no time in soaking the rag to be placed over Rin’s forehead. There’s no bringing down the fever now, only comforting him through it, and while Yukio curses his helplessness, he’s thankful they’re able to ease it, even somewhat. 

Bon stands off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping anxiously. Rin is curled on his side, and Kuro has nestled herself against his bandaged stomach. Even though she’s just as worried as the rest of them, she’s purring, if just to comfort her companion, and it  _ seems  _ to be helping; Rin has been noticeably calmer ever since she arrived. 

“Is there seriously nothing else we can do for him?” Bon demands, uncrossing his arms and drawing closer to the bedside. “There’s gotta be something, anything.” 

“We can’t do much else for him until we reach the mainland,” Yukio says, hating each word. Hating their  _ truth.  _ “He’ll get all the treatment he needs once we’re there. Until then…” 

This is all they can do. It goes unspoken, but it’s a harsh truth that they’ve all had to come to grasps with tonight. 

Rin stirs with a small, pained groan that has everyone leaning over him at once. Kuro’s head pops up, and she meows at him in concern. 

“Rin?” Shiemi asks, kneeling close to his head. She doesn’t touch him but clearly wants to. “Are you okay?” 

Rin’s clenched teeth and harsh breathing really say more than words ever could, but the way Rin’s trembling hand comes to stroke Kuro’s fur gives Yukio a dash of hope. He’s still coherent. Small blessings. 

“I’ll get there,” Rin breathes as an answer, right before squeezing his eyes shut and curling in further on himself, like he’s trying to crush his knees against his chest. Kuro bounces from her spot and finds a new one in the crook of Rin’s neck, where she lies down and licks the tears from his cheeks. 

Bon reaches out, hesitates only slightly, and settles a hand on Rin’s shoulder. Rin opens fever-bright eyes to peer up at him, curious. 

“We’ve gotcha, Blueberry,” Bon says, meeting his eyes and cracking a fragile grin. “We’ll get you home, get you patched up. It’ll be like none of this ever happened.” 

Yukio knows it’s going to take much,  _ much  _ longer than that, and it isn’t as simple as “getting patched up,” but Rin smiles back at him through the pain and settles down against the mattress again, shutting his eyes. 

“He’s right,” Shiemi agrees with a firm nod, finding his hand and squeezing it. “You’ll be home soon, the doctors there will be able to help. It’s going to be okay.”

Yukio moves around her to sit on the edge of the bed by Rin’s head, and he reaches out to settle his hand in Rin’s hair. He says nothing, but smiles gently when his brother meets his eyes, and soon Rin smiles, too. 

It’s a long night. Rin’s pain comes in unforgiving waves, some longer than others, some so long Yukio worries they’ll never end. But they  _ do  _ end, and even though they leave him more drained and exhausted than before, Rin never loses spirit. Kuro’s voice in his head reassures him of where he is, that he’s safe, and Bon’s hand keeps making its way to his shoulder, Yukio takes care of switching out the rag, and Shiemi and Nee-chan entertain them when Rin is awake enough to watch. 

It’s a night that seems to last an eternity, but the sun rises, and with it comes the sight of the mainland on the horizon. Against all opposing odds, against Rin’s constant pain and inner torment, in spite of the darkest, deepest parts of night… 

They’d made it to morning. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been brought to my attention that Kuro is actually a boy (sjdfklsdf sorry my bad, guess i had the wrong sub translation or something) but because this was already written and stuff + inconsistencies, I didn't really feel like going back and changing all that. so my bad!! thanks for the support so far and I hope you guys like the chapter <3

**** The mainland isn’t as happy with their arrival as they are. The people back at the school don’t  _ say it,  _ but Yukio knows. He can tell by their mannerisms, the way they escort them to the medical ward as though Rin’s life  _ isn’t  _ on the line, as though they have all the time in the world, as though Rin doesn’t  _ matter  _ to them. 

Yukio has come to expect this, but that doesn’t make him any less angry. Where his brother’s safety is concerned, the heads of school don’t give a damn. To them, Rin is nothing more than a tool. A weapon. Not worth decent human respect and care. In that way, they’re no better than Rin’s tormentors. 

Rin’s care is overseen by a group of doctors, who basically give him fluids and medications through an IV, use a form of energy transfer to heal the worst of his injuries (Yukio can’t even think of the proper term, he’s so out of it), commend Shiemi’s ability and her use of herbs and salves, but that’s about it. That’s… really all they do. 

They give Yukio instructions and medications, as well as the next week or so off teaching (they have plenty of substitutes, it’s not like it’s a great loss to them if Yukio is absent for a little while), but once Rin has stabilized— _ stabilized,  _ without actually  _ improving  _ a great deal—Yukio is told to take him home. 

“His regenerative abilities should kick in soon,” they said. “If his fever rises or his injuries worsen, bring him back right away.” 

It might just be because he’s a doctor and he  _ knows  _ this stuff, and who knows, maybe there’s seriously nothing more they can do for him, but Yukio’s bow is stiff, his thank-you is hollow, and he’s never been happier to get his brother out of their hands. 

Rin stumbles more than walks, and while there’s a big part of Yukio that wants to offer to carry him again, he holds back this time and settles for keeping a steadying hand on Rin’s shoulder as he digs through his pockets for his keyring. Rin is incredibly unsteady, but there’s more light in his eyes than before. And that’s a nice change. 

Once they’re inside the dorm, Yukio wastes no time in guiding Rin toward the couch. Kuro dashes ahead of them and pulls the blanket down from the back of the couch, trying to be helpful. Yukio doesn’t know what she says, but Rin laughs breathlessly and cracks a frail smile.

Yukio lets him down, and Rin all but collapses onto it, breathing hard, head tipped back to rest on the arm of the couch. Kuro still has the blanket in her teeth and attempts to drag it over him as best she can, but Yukio steps in to help in the end, draping the blanket over Rin fully. 

Rin releases a shuddering breath, opening his eyes just enough for Yukio to see their blue. “Thanks,” he breathes. “I’m sure I’ll be alright by tomorrow, don’t worry ‘bout me…” 

Yukio smiles back weakly, shaking his head. “Well,” he says, “we’ll see what tomorrow brings, alright? For now, there isn’t much you can say that will keep me from worrying about you.” 

Rin huffs and rolls his eyes, but Yukio knows he isn’t actually annoyed. On a normal day—a  _ good  _ day—maybe. But not right now. 

“Fine,” Rin says, bringing the blanket tighter around himself while Kuro gets situated on his stomach. “But only if you insist.” 

Yukio smiles a little softer and bends down to smooth his brother’s bedraggled hair out of his face again. Rin closes his eyes to brace for impact (something that makes Yukio’s heart clench), but opens them as soon as he realizes the intent. 

“Why d’you keep doin’ that?” he asks, frowning softly. 

“Ah, sorry. If you’d rather I didn’t, I can stop.” 

“I’m gross,” Rin murmurs back, frowning. “You’re just… Mr. Presteine Teacher and all that. Neat freak.” 

Yukio laughs softly at that, shaking his head. “Can’t really blame you,” he says. “Although, you should probably take a shower. Might make you feel a little better.” 

“Mmm.” Rin nods to slowly himself and looks away, thinking it over. It looks like hard work. Kuro chirps something, and Rin snorts and gives her an offended shove. “Don’t be like that, I’m tired.” 

Kuro meows at him and Yukio chuckles. “Well, let me know if you need help,” he says, getting to his feet. “I’m going to go ahead and see if Ukobach feels like making something for dinner.” 

Rin nods and Yukio turns and begins to head off. Just before he completely leaves the room, he hears Kuro mrrow and Rin murmur, “Yeah, I love him, too. It’s nice to be home.”

Yukio buries his anger at the head of school for the time being. If Rin is happy, then what’s he got to complain about?  

* * *

The more he thinks about it, the better a shower sounds. Rin can’t remember the last time he actually showered—actually he doesn’t even know how long he was  _ in  _ that place with his tormentors. It could’ve been hours or it could’ve been weeks for all his memory supplies. Time passed slowly there. Sometimes not at all.

_ “Should I get your brother?”  _ Kuro asks when he voices this to her, voice a soft, coaxing lull in his head. It’s such a relief. Her voice does more to settle him than anything else.

It takes a moment for him to realize she’s waiting for an answer. He thinks about it, judges how well he’d be able to make it to the showers on his own, then sighs and leans into the back of the couch again. 

“Probably?” he says. He’s breathing so deep that each breath may as well be a sigh; he’d forgotten how wonderful breathing was. Being  _ able  _ to breathe was. “Gah, I dunno… I don’t like bugging him, ‘sides, it’s not like I’m completely helpless…” 

Kuro’s paw baps him on the cheek softly. He opens his eyes and hers stare right back into his.  _ “Your brother would be more upset to find you on the floor because you overestimated and overworked yourself,”  _ she says, before bopping him again, this time on the nose.  _ “At least let him know where you are.”  _

Rin sighs for real this time, but as much as he dislikes admitting it, she’s right. “Alright, alright,” he relents, shutting his eyes, “you can go get him, I’ll wait here.” 

Kuro purrs and nuzzles his cheek, then bounds off the couch and out of the room. 

* * *

Yukio helps him up and to the bathroom, retreating when Rin promises him he’ll be fine for a bit and that he isn’t nearly as feeble as before. Yukio leaves, saying something about leaving a pair of clean clothes outside the door for him, and then Rin is alone. The door is left cracked, so Kuro can check on him and report to Yukio if something is wrong.

Rin’s current clothes… he hadn’t realized how torn and ragged they were until now. He can’t believe Yukio let him lie on the couch in such a state. He must’ve been really shaken up by all this if all the dried blood and grime hadn’t bothered him. 

...

… Or maybe he really just didn’t care about any of that, as long as Rin was comfortable. It strikes Rin as odd at first, but then he remembers that that’s how it should be, right? That’s how Yukio’s always been. Kindness shouldn’t surprise him, right? 

It does. 

It does, surprise him. 

He doesn’t really remember getting in the shower, or turning on the water, but he remembers jumping and almost bashing his head into the wall when it hits him. It’s…  _ hot.  _ The water kind of burns a little, actually, but he doesn’t adjust the temperature. Chances are it’ll drive up his fever and Yukio will probably berate him for it later, but right now he’s too startled by the sheer  _ warmth  _ to really care. 

Warmth… 

Sitting on a clean shower floor instead of in that murky, heartless cell where life was choked out of anything and everything. 

He’d forgotten to take off the bandages. Maybe it’s better that way. But hot water still finds its way through them, washing over every ache, every pain, every bloodspot, every bruise, and replacing it with warmth. 

Warmth wasn’t something he had, back in the cell. Comfort wasn’t something he had. Relief wasn’t something he had. 

He has all of that, now. And it’s choking him. 

He’d forgotten what this felt like. 

* * *

Kuro feels his distress, and it reaches her like a siren in silence. It has her leaping off the couch like a frog into a pond and dashing down the hallway, towards the bathroom. She hears Yukio discussing what kind of soup they should make for Rin with Ukobach, but she ignores that for now and instead squeezes herself through the crack of the bathroom door. If it’s serious, she can get Yukio. For now, she has to be there.

The amount of steam in the bathroom is nearly suffocating, but she’s able to ignore it. She’s  _ this close  _ to reaching out to him with her mind, to ask what’s the matter (if anything), but she stops. 

She hears him, now. Softly, barely audible over the running water, but she hears him. His breaths come in shaky gasps, catching on a sob every other inhale. He’s trying to muffle it—maybe out of habit, after what he went through—but she hears it clearly. 

She doesn’t approach. She doesn’t reach out to him. In fact, she doesn’t do anything at all. Her feet turn her around and carry her back through the crack in the door from where she’d come, silent as can be. 

Rin will get plenty of comfort afterward. She’ll be there for him, Yukio will be there for him, the rest of his friends, the people who love him, the people he loves—they’ll all be there. 

For now, she lets Rin have this moment alone, to break without worrying about who’s watching, and she prances into the kitchen to see how dinner is faring. 

* * *

“Nii-san?” Yukio raps his knuckles on the bathroom door again, careful not to push it open by mistake. The water had stopped running at least ten minutes ago, and while Rin had  _ seemed  _ alright before showering, Yukio is worried he’d slipped or fainted.

The worry is amplified by the lack of response. He knocks again. “Nii-san, are you okay? Can I come in?” 

No answer. Kuro curls around his ankles, mrrowwing softly.  _ She  _ doesn’t seem concerned, so he probably shouldn’t be either, but the silence is bothering him. 

He pushes the door open and steps inside. 

Rin hadn’t answered him before, but now Yukio sees why. And it’s not because he’d fallen or fainted, or even passed out. He’s leaning against the wall, wearing the dark-pink shirt and gray sweatpants Yukio had left outside the door for him, and he’s sleeping. 

Yukio breathes a sigh of relief, heart rate returning to normal, and he crosses the tiled floor. Kuro bounces around at his feet, but she’s fallen silent now lest her voice in Rin’s head disturb his sound slumber. Yukio doesn’t think he’ll be able to carry Rin into his bedroom without doing just that, but anyway. 

Surprisingly, and thankfully, Rin doesn’t stir. Yukio is able to get him settled in his room under the covers, and Kuro wastes no time jumping up with him and snuggling close to his chest, without putting pressure on his fragile ribs. Yukio settles a hand on his head for a moment to gauge his fever, but considering he’d just showered, getting an accurate temperature is rather impossible. 

Well. He’ll check it when he has to wake Rin for dinner. Until then, he lets his brother sleep. 

When dinner finally rolls around and he rouses him, Rin is exhausted and very clearly so, but perks up a bit when Ukobach comes to deliver his bowl of soup personally. Ukobach rarely (if ever) ventures beyond the kitchen, and the sentiment alone is enough to make Rin smile and thank him earnestly. Ukobach departs and leaves Yukio and Rin alone in the bedroom with their soup. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him out of the kitchen,” Rin observes once the familiar has disappeared. He blows on a spoonful of soup, hesitates. “It was nice of him to bring it up to us…” 

Yukio nods, already eating his own soup. “Yes. He made the soup especially for you, after observing your likes and dislikes, but it shouldn’t be too overwhelming. It might strengthen you a bit, too.” 

That’s another thing that’s been bothering him, just how thin Rin is. He hadn’t been with the exorcists long enough for him to be dangerously malnourished, but he’s definitely underweight. They’ll have to work on that, slowly. Gradually. 

“Yeah.” Rin looks down at the bowl, stirs the soup, blows on a spoonful. After a second longer of hesitation, he takes a bite. 

Yukio studies his face, his eyes, his posture. Rin lowers the spoon back into the bowl mechanically, swallowing hard. He blinks longly down at the bowl, at the steam, at his hands. Kuro slides up beside him, nuzzling his side and purring, and Rin’s eyes shimmer in the dim light of the desk lamp. 

Yukio’s own eyes burn, but he holds back for Rin’s sake and smiles instead. “Do you like it?” 

It’s an intentionally bland soup, something light that won’t overwhelm him, but Rin nods feverishly, bringing an arm to wipe at his eyes, and he takes the next spoonful eagerly. Yukio returns to his own soup in like manner. 

In the end, Rin can only get through about half of it, but that’s more than enough for now. Little steps. Yukio sets the bowls on the desks and helps Rin get settled, drawing the blanket around his shoulders once he’s laid down, checking his temperature again. It’s lower than before. He’s relieved. 

Kuro makes herself comfortable in the crook of Rin’s neck, both her tails curling around Rin’s. Yukio bids Rin goodnight, makes him promise to wake him if he’s needed, then turns out the desk lamp and takes the bowls back to the kitchen. 

Afterwards, Yukio dresses for bed and returns to their bedroom. Rin is asleep now, Kuro is purring softly but loudly enough for him to hear, and Yukio situates himself on the bed across from his brother, setting his glasses on the edge of the desk. 

He falls asleep almost immediately. 

* * *

_ “Sleeping again, are you? Didn’t we talk about this?” _

He’s dragged to his feet, head pounding, the copper scent of his own blood burning his sinuses. Feet dragging limp behind him. He can’t seem to pull them enough to hold his weight. The world around him spins and he observes through blurry vision, unable to move, to protest, to fight back. Actually, he can’t remember a time when he’d been able to do any of those things. 

His captor is saying something, something he can’t make out, something about sleeping and why he isn’t allowed the simple luxury. Some part of him remembers that he hadn’t actually been sleeping, that another exorcist had bashed him on the head so hard that he’d blacked out (maybe that’s where the blood is coming from?), but he can’t speak. And even if he could, he knows he wouldn’t be heard. 

A door is kicked open. He hears familiar laughter of familiar voices, sees familiar faces through blurry vision. Their faces peer down at him from all angles, scoffing at his weakness, laughing at his sad attempts at escape. 

He’s cast to the ground like an unwanted doll, and once he hits, he can’t get up. He’s trapped there, a slave to his own lifeless, unmoving body. A body that can’t escape, can’t run, can’t even move its hands so it can cover his ears, blot out their laughter and their sneering. A body that knows only one thing. And that’s hurt. 

Someone kicks him in the ribs. He feels a shift, a crack. A snap. 

_ “Nii-san—!”  _

Rin comes to with a cry, arms swinging blindly in the dark. He makes contact with something, some _ one,  _ who recoils with a sharp cry, but he can barely hear it, much less register it. There’s something in the back of his throat that tastes like blood and sounds like taunting laughter as he’s kicked and his still-healing ribs break again, as his tormentors laugh again, as he clenches his teeth again, as he cries out again. 

Why won’t they  _ stop?  _

“Nii-san, Rin—” 

_ “Get away from me!”  _

He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t run, he can’t escape, he can’t do anything else. His flames engulf him, their heatless wonder encircling him, closing him in. It somehow makes it worse, makes him feel even more cornered, but there’s something between him and his tormentors now. There’s something between him and them that might deter them. Maybe.  _ Please.  _

_ “Nii-san—”  _

It sounds like Yukio. It can’t be Yukio. He’s alone here. It can’t be Yukio. It’s not. His flames burn stronger as he curls in further on himself, desperate to hide, to escape, to not be seen. 

Someone grabs him. Grabs him in a way his captors never grabbed him. Holds him in a way only one person ever has. 

And then he’s snapped back to reality. A reality where he’s safe in the dorm, where his captors can’t get to him, and where Yukio is embracing him despite the flames surrounding him. 

Rin realizes this. His heart soars into his throat. “Y-Yukio, l-let go, I’m—” 

“Nii-san.” Yukio does the opposite of what Rin had asked, and hugs him all the tighter. Not suffocatingly tight, but tight enough. “You don’t have to defend yourself. You don’t have to fight back. It’s okay. Please… take a breath, alright?” 

Yukio didn’t know if his flames would hurt him. Didn’t know how Rin would respond to the touch. 

But he’d done it anyway. 

Rin sucks in a breath, shakily, and brings his arms to hug Yukio back as tight as he can. His flames engulf them both, bright but calm, and slowly, they begin to dissipate. They dissipate little by little, until the only light is that of the moon outside their bedroom window. Rin slumps, dazed and disoriented, and Yukio holds him closer. 

“Nii-san, are you—” 

_ “I’m okay,”  _ Rin gasps, breath scant as the room spins and twirls around him. “I… I—” 

The nausea quickly becomes too much, and he all but shoves Yukio out of the way so he can lean over the bed. Yukio swears but doesn’t stay away, not even when Rin’s stomach empties itself onto the bedroom floor. Yukio doesn’t grab him like he’d done before, but rather takes him by the shoulders to steady him, murmuring words he can’t fully hear over his retching, until the fit finally ends. 

_ Then  _ Yukio grabs him and pulls him close, and Rin doesn’t even have it in him to protest. 

* * *

One thing became very clear very quickly: that being, they won’t be sleeping in the bedroom again tonight. Even after cleaning up and airing out the room for half an hour while doing so, the stench was overpowering and Yukio didn’t want Rin getting sick again because of it.

So downstairs to the couch they went, Kuro curling worried circles around Yukio’s ankles, meowing constantly. 

They’re on the couch, now, Yukio sitting up and Rin lying down, upper body in Yukio’s lap and face smushed into Yukio’s stomach. After struggling with it for a decent time and refusing any help, Kuro managed to drag a comforter-sized blanket over Rin, and Yukio helped her tuck it around him. 

Stress drove Rin’s fever up, but Yukio doesn’t dare wake him again, even for medicine. Right now, sleep will do more for him than those drugs will, and as long as he’s sleeping peacefully like this, it’s alright. 

Yukio drags a hand over his face with a long, exhausted sigh, and Kuro momentarily leaves Rin’s side to come along the back of the couch and bonk her head against his cheek. Yukio breathes deeply and reaches out to scratch her behind the ears. With his other hand, he smooths back Rin’s hair and keeps a constant eye on his temperature—which is neither rising nor falling. 

“I’m alright, just a bit worried,” Yukio assures Kuro, smiling softly when she rubs her cheek against his hand, purring. “Thanks for helping me look after him. I’m sorry there isn’t more I can do.” 

She bites his hand this time, a quick and defiant  _ stop that,  _ before bouncing off the back of the couch to snuggle up against Rin again. Yukio sighs and retreats into his mind again, absentmindedly stroking Rin’s hair. 

He doesn’t know how long it’s going to be like this. How many nights the two of them will have to sacrifice before reaching anything even  _ slightly  _ normal again. But in the end, Yukio supposes it doesn’t matter much. It’ll take as long as it needs to, and he’ll be here for every second of it. 

For now, this is the best he can do; hold Rin, comfort him, promise him it’ll be okay. And believe in his own heart that, someday, it will be. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the support everyone!! i really appreciate it, thank you all so much!! <3 updates are gonna be really slow from this point on, so please be patient!! i have a lot of other projects going on that I wanna work on first. 
> 
> thank you for your support and for your patience!! enjoy!! <3

**** Rin’s hair had grown down to his shoulders, and the subject of cutting it was one Yukio hadn’t felt important enough to bring up until now, several days since Rin’s last relapse. Headspace wise, Rin is better than before; still not perfect, but he’s been somewhat more chatty and even snapped at Yukio for being overbearing (only once, and he was quick to apologize, but that small snap was enough for Yukio to believe that someday things will be back as they should be). 

Rin’s hair is typically pulled behind his head in a loose ponytail, so it’s out of the way and he doesn’t have to deal with it, but there are several knots and dreadlocks, and it isn’t anywhere near tidy. In some places it’s short, in others it’s quite long, and it’s ratty and torn and Yukio doesn’t quite know what to do about that. 

Until now. 

“Nii-san, would you be alright with me cutting your hair?” 

Rin flinches so hard that it almost vaults him right off the couch. Kuro, who’d been perched on his shoulder,  _ does  _ lose her balance and slip, bouncing indignantly onto the coffee table and hissing at Yukio angrily. 

“Sorry,” Yukio is quick to say, holding out a hand in case Rin  _ does  _ fall, “are you alright?” 

“Oh, I’m fine,” Rin answers shortly, shaking his head at himself. “I’m fine, I promise, it’s more…” He pauses a moment, shoulders slumping, hands in his lap. “It’s more me than you. Sorry.” 

Yukio takes this in for a moment, then scoots just a little closer to his brother on the couch. “Don’t blame yourself,” he says. “You’re not to blame for what happened to you, so don’t apologize for the way you react to things.” 

Rin sighs. 

There’s still a feverish flush to his face; his fever rarely leaves, though it  _ does  _ lower frequently. As of now, his fever isn’t anything worth noting, but it  _ is  _ there, even though the rest of his face has taken on a somewhat healthier color. 

But even so, the slight fever speaks of worse things Rin has endured; it isn’t hard to put the pieces together, to assess exactly why Rin doesn’t want Yukio cutting his hair. Rin’s regenerative abilities are the only reason he’s alive, but overworked and exhausted, they aren’t perfect. Several scars line his skin beneath his t-shirt, and Yukio doesn’t want to think of the instruments that put them there. 

“If you don’t want me to cut your hair, that’s alright,” Yukio says. “I understand. But would you be alright if I brushed it? It would be easier to clean and manage that way.” 

Rin falls silent for a time, contemplating. He’s had several showers since being found and brought home, and it’s not that he hadn’t  _ tried  _ washing his hair, but there’s only so much one can do with it. And maybe he’d feel better once Yukio has brushed through it. That’s Yukio’s hope, anyway. 

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity of sitting and waiting while Rin thinks and pets Kuro’s fur, he nods. Yukio leaves with a promise to return and doesn’t come back until he’s gathered a brush, a comb, and a small spray bottle of detangling spray that Shiemi had left behind during one of their bootcamps and never came back for. 

Yukio takes a seat on the couch beside his brother, tapping Rin on the shoulder to prompt him to turn. Rin does so once he understands, turning so that he’s leaned his side against the back of the couch and Yukio can sit behind him. 

“Alright…” Yukio takes the brush first; the comb will come later once they’re through the worst of it. “Let me know if it hurts, alright?” 

Rin nods silently and Yukio gets to work, starting with the detangling spray and moving forward from there. The first couple of brush-throughs, and Yukio is thinking that it’s a hopeless case and they might have to cut Rin’s hair after all, but after loads of patience and uncountable careful, gentle run-throughs with the brush, Yukio begins to see the fruit of his labor. 

It isn’t completely salvageable; Yukio comes across dreadlocks that he knows will have to be snipped off (preferably when Rin is sleeping and unaware), but he brushes through the rest of Rin’s hair with difficulty, but not hopelessness. And soon it becomes less of a chore and more of an opportunity. To sit on the couch with his brother in a calm, gentle atmosphere, while Rin strokes Kuro’s fur and breathes deeply and evenly and Yukio brushes through his mangled hair. 

Barely ten minutes later, right when Yukio is about to start with the comb, he realizes just how heavily Rin is leaning against the back of the couch. Yukio is concerned at first, but a quick glance at his brother’s peaceful face tells him that he’s merely asleep. 

Kuro, still curled in Rin’s lap, smiles up at Yukio proudly, as though this was here doing, and Yukio returns the smile and finishes up with Rin’s hair quickly, pulling it into a  _ very  _ loose braid behind his head and securing it with a hairtye. Rin doesn’t stir even once, not even when Yukio rises to his feet and lifts him into his arms. 

He hadn’t noticed it before, hadn’t thought about how easy it’s been to carry his brother to and fro. He hasn’t even thought about it, hadn’t wondered why it was so easy. At first he attributes it to adrenaline, but the only time that makes sense is when he’d first saved Rin from the dungeon. The rest of the times have been quite peaceful. 

He doesn’t want to, but he reaches the conclusion as he braves the stairs and Kuro leaps on ahead of him, Rin snug in Yukio’s arms. 

Rin is…  _ light.  _ He’s  _ very  _ light, far lighter than anyone should be. Yukio feels more like he’s carrying a sack of twigs than his own brother, and it’s this thought that has him ordering Kuro to look after him once he’s in bed and going to Ukobach the moment that’s over with. 

It’s not something they can fix right away, or even  _ quickly,  _ but it  _ is  _ something they can fix. And the sooner they start, the faster they’ll be able to fix it.

* * *

In the middle of the night, a week since they brought Rin home from that  _ hell,  _ Yukio is woken by a gentle tap to the face.

It’s soft enough that it doesn’t quite rouse him completely the first time, but the second time it taps him, his eyes snap open and he shoots upright, fumbling for his glasses on the desk before slipping them over his face. It’s the middle of the night; he’s expecting to see Rin standing by the bed, or maybe he’d simply imagined someone poking him. 

But it’s Kuro, tails thwapping the bed sheets beneath her. As soon as she realizes Yukio is awake, she leaps off the side of the bed and skitters across the floor to the door. She stops for a moment, looking over her shoulder at Yukio, and it’s only here that Yukio’s gaze cuts across the room and he realizes that Rin’s bed is empty. 

After that, he can’t follow Kuro fast enough, and he nearly trips several times in his haste to reach the main floor of the dorm. 

There’s a light on in the kitchen, and he hears Rin muttering to himself softly, followed by the flip of paper, the clang of dishes. Ukobach is, strangely enough, sitting on the couch watching anxiously, and Kuro bounces up beside him and curls her tails around her forelegs tightly. Her eyes land on Yukio’s again, and he sees every ounce of fear and unease in her gaze. 

Yukio turns away, swallows hard, composes himself for whatever he’s about to find, and turns the corner into the kitchen. 

There are  _ racks  _ of foods, with a range that would make even the largest of buffetts jealous. The foods vary from all sorts; sweets, baked goods, breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and it looks like he even snuck in some American cuisine here and there, too. What stuns Yukio the most isn’t so much the  _ amount  _ of food as it is the  _ kinds  _ of food. 

Rin doesn’t bake, but there are cakes. He also doesn’t make a habit of preparing pastries or sweets, but there are several trays of cookies and cupcakes and other desserts Yukio can’t remember the name of, but saw in fancy restaurant windows as advertisements when he was younger. 

Rin himself is flipping through a cookbook, cheeks flushed red, sweat beading on his forehead before trailing down his face and neck. His hair has been braided, but it’s messily done and most likely a second-thought on his part. With every frantic turn of the page, his hands tremble just a little bit more, and his eyes dart faster. 

“Okay, okay, what haven’t I tried making before?” A couple turns to the right, each turn faster than the last. “Oh, this one looks challenging. Yeah, let’s try this one, let’s see--” Rin whirls around, snatches a bowl from the cabinet, and begins measuring out dry ingredients. Another cake, it would seem. 

It clicks in Yukio’s mind, what his brother is doing. It sinks in slowly and finds itself a dark little corner of his heart, where he couldn’t be rid of it if he tried. He takes in another breath to steady himself, reminding himself that he has to be present, calm,  _ soft,  _ and then, 

“Nii-san.” 

He’d spoken gently enough, voice a mere murmur, but Rin  _ jumps  _ as though someone had shouted at him. Whirling around, wild eyes meeting Yukio’s, Rin fumbles and flails for a bit before slipping unceremoniously and disappearing behind the island with a painful sounding thump. 

“Rin!” 

Yukio’s there in no time at all, just as Rin begins pushing himself upright again, rubbing the back of his head. He flinches back a little when Yukio reaches out, and while he recovers quickly, it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Sorry,” Rin says, refusing Yukio’s hand and pushing himself to his feet. Yukio isn’t hurt by it. “Did I wake you up?” 

“No,” Yukio says. He pauses, turning and glancing about the dish-laden kitchen. “... You’ve been busy.” 

Rin laughs in a way that is so painfully fake it hurts, but luckily, he’s quick to realize it isn’t helping and stops at once. “Well, yeah,” he says. “I didn’t really, y’know,  _ mean  _ to do all… this,” He gestures at the kitchen vaguely with one hand, “but… I’ve…” 

His tail flicks around his legs, almost like it’s unsure of what to do. 

Yukio takes in a long breath and lets it out. “Does cooking help?” 

“I don’t know, it  _ was?”  _ Rin turns away, running both hands through his hair. His breathing is labored and Yukio takes note of it but pretends he doesn’t. “But I can’t keep cooking forever and we don’t have enough groceries for me to do that  _ anyway  _ but it’s like the second I take my mind off it I can’t think about anything except what--” 

“Rin.” 

Yukio reaches out to settle a hand on Rin’s shoulder. Rin doesn’t flinch at the contact, and the lack of action is more noticeable than a proper reaction. 

“You still have a fever,” Yukio says, trying to keep the business-man edge out of his tone. What Rin needs now is his brother, not a doctor, and Yukio is far too aware of this. “It isn’t good for you to be up late like this.” 

“I  _ know  _ it isn’t!” Rin bites, jerking away from him this time. “I just, I’m tired of sitting back and doing nothing, and just--” He runs his hands through his hair again, but grabs ahold of fistfuls this time and yanks. “It’s too  _ much  _ to think about, and then I’ve got everyone all worried about me when they  _ shouldn’t  _ be worried, and, I’m--” Rin stops abruptly, voice caught in his throat. “... I… I’m…” 

“I’ll read to you,” Yukio says, a promise. Rin whirls around to face him, wide-eyed, but Yukio goes on; “Or we can talk. Or play a game. Or something. I understand needing a distraction, believe me, but I’m here to help you with that. And if you’ll let me, I would like to.” 

Rin glances about the kitchen again, still struggling. “But… all of this will go to waste, I--” 

“We can invite the rest of the group over tomorrow if you’d like,” Yukio says. “Ukobach can take care of everything from here on, I’m sure. Right now you should lie down, at least until your fever breaks.” 

Rin gives a long, shuddering sigh, resting his hands against the countertop and leaning heavily against them. There’s a long, pregnant pause before Rin finally nods and allows Yukio to guide him away. Ukobach takes his position in the kitchen promptly, and Kuro bounds off the couch to curl around Rin’s ankles affectionately until they reach the bedroom. 

Rin is awake for another hour while Yukio does a dramatic reading of one of their textbooks. Kuro chimes in by acting out whatever it is Yukio is reading; Rin watches and listens, laughing when appropriate and at one point even threatening one of the historical figures, even though they’ve been dead for hundreds, sometimes  _ thousands  _ of years. Kuro never grows tired of switching between roles, going from noble prince to dying soldier in a matter of seconds, all while Yukio reads the scenes and Rin reacts accordingly. 

They’re just getting to the most exciting part when Yukio realizes Rin has fallen quiet, his head a somewhat heavier weight against his shoulder, and a quick peer into his face tells Yukio that he’s finally,  _ finally  _ fallen asleep. Still feverish, but sleeping soundly. 

Yukio and Kuro share a relieved sigh as Yukio sets the book off to the side and Kuro makes herself comfortable in Rin’s lap. Rin stirs for a moment and they freeze and hold their breath, but he doesn’t actually wake up. It’s a good thing. 

* * *

“Oh, come in!” Shiemi calls into the shop in response to a series of knocks at the door. Inwards it swings at her invitation, and a dishevelled Yukio steps inside.

“Sorry for calling so late,” Yukio says as he ventures towards the desk. There are dark smudges under his eyes like charcoal, and his smile displays his exhaustion for all to see. “And I apologize if I woke you…” 

Shiemi shakes her head ardently, already kneeling by the spice drawers to sift through their collection of herbs. “I wasn’t asleep,” she assures him, searching through file by file. She ponders what she’s about to say next, then pauses with a small sigh, lowering her hand down to her side. “It’s been a bit… difficult. Lately. T-To want to, I mean.” 

Yukio inhales and exhales deeply before nodding. “Yes, I… I understand.” 

“These are for Rin, right?” Shiemi finds what she’s looking for and lifts them out of the cupboard, rising to her feet and stepping behind the desk. “Is he… Is he doing any better?” 

Yukio’s smile falls, and his shoulders heave with yet another exhausted, weary sigh. “He’s coping, but even that’s a strong word to describe it. He certainly isn’t doing any  _ worse,  _ and his injuries have improved substantially. But his fever won’t go away, and it fluxuates to a concerning degree. Typically depending on his state of mind.” 

Which, if he’s quite honest, has been all out of sorts lately. 

“Oh, poor thing,” Shiemi murmurs, eyes shimmering with sympathy as she packs the herbs into a small paper bag. “Here, I tossed in a couple other herbs that should help relax him and help him sleep, too.” 

“Ah, thank you.” Yukio takes the bag from the desk with another exhausted, drained smile. “Again, I apologize for the late hour.” 

“No, no, it’s alright,” she assures with her own smile. “Like I said, I haven’t been sleeping much lately, either. It’s been refreshing to have someone to talk to, even if just for a short time.”

Yukio nods, bows, bids her a goodnight, and turns to leave. He’s about halfway down the hall towards the door when Shiemi can’t take it anymore and rushes out from behind the counter. 

“Y-Yuki, I…” 

He pauses, glancing at her over his shoulder, and the slight red around the corners of his eyes steels her resolve. 

“Let me come over and help you look after Rin,” she says firmly. “I-I know it’s late, and you might not want me there, but you and Rin are two of my closest friends, and I want to be able to help you with whatever I can.” 

“Shiemi, I couldn’t possibly--” 

“I’m not asking,” Shiemi responds, shaking her head and curling her fingers into fists. “Please, Yuki. I know you’re worried about him, but I can tell you haven’t been looking out for yourself, either, and you’ve been doing so much all on your own. I can’t sleep anyway, and I would much rather be with you and Rin than here all by myself. Especially if I can help.” 

Yukio opens his mouth, and for a second she thinks he’s going to shoot her down again, but he surprises her. His teeth click together and he sighs, but not out of exasperation. It’s relief. 

“... Thank you, Shiemi. If you’re really alright with it, I… I would appreciate the help.” 

Shiemi beams and nods firmly, determination settling her resolve. 

* * *

By the time they arrive back at the dorm, Kuro is running circles around the room and Rin’s fever has soared to a dangerous temperature. Yukio actually swears at the reading, which is enough to make Shiemi’s heart work doubletime, and while Yukio dashes from the room for supplies, Shiemi tries rousing Rin.

He comes to slowly, but is fully aware of who she is, who he is, and most importantly,  _ where  _ he is. His voice is nothing more than a weak rasp and his skin is hot to the touch. Shiemi quickly finds herself wondering if maybe his flames have something to do with it, but she knows it’s more likely just a very bad fever. He can’t hold onto his consciousness for longer than a few seconds, and while it’s worrisome, it isn’t entirely unexpected. He’s so sick and out of it right now that she’s surprised he’d woken up at all. 

Yukio’s footsteps draw her attention that way and he deposits an armful of supplies onto the side table, which has been dragged closer to Rin’s bed for easier access. Yukio begins sifting through and organizing everything before Shiemi can begin assessing just what it is he’d gathered. 

“Did he wake up?” Yukio asks her, snapping her from her thoughts. The smudges beneath his eyes are darker than ever, but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen a more grave, no-nonsense look on his face. “Were you able to take his temperature?” 

Shiemi shakes her head ardently and swallows, reaching out to settle a hand on Rin’s ankle. “N, No. He woke up for a second or two, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open for very long.” 

“Was he coherent?” 

“I-I think so. He knew who I was and where we were. He…” She pauses, swallows again but harder this time. There’s a lump in her throat and she can’t seem to get rid of it. “He apologized. F-For the trouble.” 

Yukio clicks his tongue but doesn’t ask any more questions. He goes through the supplies again, reading labels in the light of the lantern hanging on the side of the bed. The shadows of Kuro’s flicking tails dance silently on the wall. 

“I’ll need to go back for a basin of water,” Yukio murmurs as he reads another label, more to himself than to Shiemi, “but first I want to--”

Rin seizes up unexpectedly, teeth clenched and eyes screwed tight. Yukio is on alert again immediately and so is Shiemi, leaping to her feet while Yukio sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out to place a hand on Rin’s head. 

“Rin?” Yukio’s voice is soft but demanding, personal while still maintaining the professional edge that Shiemi knows so well. “Nii-san, are you--?” 

Rin doesn’t answer verbally, but that isn’t to say he doesn’t respond at all. He curls on his side, disturbing Kuro who’d been nestled on his stomach, and Yukio smoothes his sweat-damp hair out of his face like clockwork. 

“You shouldn’t’ve pushed yourself so much,” Yukio scolds softly, voice barely more than a gentle whisper. Rin doesn’t answer again, breath coming in short gasps that wheeze in a way Shiemi doesn’t like one bit. Yukio sighs. “But I guess you always do this, don’t you?” Yukio murmurs tiredly, but not without endearment. “Idiot…” 

Rin stays quiet, Yukio coaches his breathing while stroking his hair in an absent-minded, rhythmical kind of fashion, and Shiemi watches the two of them silently, wondering what she should do. Yukio has a better handle on this situation right now (not to mention he’s a doctor, too), and Rin seems more inclined to allow Yukio to help him than Shiemi. She doesn’t take it personally, not at all; they’re family, Rin and Yukio. Twins even. They bicker and argue more than she would hope, but she knows how much they love each other. She’s seen it displayed before, and she’s seeing it displayed now. Only this time it’s Rin who’s vulnerable and Yukio who takes on the role of protector. 

Decision made, Shiemi draws a breath and turns, rushing from the room. “I’ll take care of the basin!” she promises as she dashes off, not caring if Yukio hears her or responds. “Be right back!” 

She’s gone before giving Yukio a change to reply. 

* * *

“Do you think he’s really sleeping, now?”

Yukio nods heavily, posture a mess, shoulders hunched. “He should be,” he says as he glances at Rin, lying still beneath a thin blanket with a rag soaked in herb water draped across his forehead. “I gave him his medications while you went to fetch the basin. He wasn’t happy about it, but I’m certain they’ve kicked in by now.” 

“O-Oh, that’s good,” Shiemi responds quietly, nodding. The flush on Rin’s cheeks is still a stark contrast to the rest of his skin, even though they’ve turned out the lantern and the only light now comes from the moon shining through the window. “Do you… do you think he’s still in pain? From his injuries?” 

A shadow crosses over Yukio’s eyes and remains there until he answers. “... Yes. I do. Perhaps not all the time--or, at least, not intense enough to prohibit him--but on bad days, when he strains himself… I don’t really want to think about it too much. It’s distracting.” 

“Distracting from… f-from what?” 

“Actually taking care of him.” Yukio heaves a tired sigh and looks down at his hands, folded loosely in his lap. “... Shiemi…” 

The sudden change in his tone makes her jump. “Y-Yes?” 

“The exorcists who kidnapped him. We’re holding their hearing a week from now.” 

Shiemi’s eyes blow wide. “A week?” she squeaks, voice a pitch higher than it should be.  “I-Isn’t that kind of soon?” 

“We need to handle it as quickly as we can,” Yukio answers shortly. “There’s no possible way those monsters are getting off the hook, but… they’d asked if you would be willing to share with them some of what you found, considering you did most of Rin’s emergency treatment on-site.” 

It sinks in. “Oh!” she says, nodding. “Oh, y-yes, I can do that. Anything that makes sure those people never see the light of day again.” 

She’s always been a forgiving person--maybe even to a fault--but no. Rin can’t even  _ breathe  _ properly, and every gasp of breath has a rasp to it and sounds like it takes a great deal of effort to produce. She’ll never forgive this. She’ll never forgive  _ them.  _

“I’m going to see if Bon can give his testimony, too,” Yukio tells her. “The goal is to have enough discriminating evidence against them  _ without  _ having to… you know…” 

Bring Rin in to testify. Make him relive the hell he endured. 

Shiemi nods shakily. “I’m sure there’s plenty evidence,” she says, trying to assure him. “They’ll get what they have coming to them, Yuki, they’ll never hurt Rin or anyone ever again.” 

“I know.” Yukio drags a hand over his face and sighs again. “I know. Thank you, Shiemi.” 

Shiemi smiles, but it feels artificial, like her cheeks are being pulled by wire instead of her doing it voluntarily. She takes in Yukio’s posture again, the way he keeps sighing, the exhaustion-fueled crescents under his eyes…

“Yuki, why don’t you rest?” she offers, unable to keep concern from seeping into her voice. When Yukio opens his mouth to object, she plunges on. “It’s like you said, Rin is resting properly now, right? I can look after him while you get some sleep, and I’ll wake you up if he gets worse. I think… if Rin knew you were running yourself ragged like this, for his sake… it would make him very sad.”

Yukio holds her gaze for a moment longer before averting it. With another long sigh, he nods slowly and pushes himself to his feet. 

“You’re right,” he says, though he doesn’t sound completely happy about it. “You’re right, I’ll get some rest. Please, wake me if something happens.” 

“I will,” Shiemi promises without fully meaning it; she can’t do a lot of things, but certainly she can do  _ this.  _ “Sleep well, Yuki.” 

He smiles at her and departs. 

* * *

Rin stirs not long afterwards, opening hazy, glassy eyes and looking up at her blearily as she leans over him. She asks him how he is, helps raise his head long enough to sip some herb-infused water, and he coughs on it for a terrifying moment before breathing steadily again (or, as steadily as he can in his condition).

“I’m… really sorry for the hassle, Shiemi,” Rin breathes as she changes out the rag on his head, replacing it with a cool one. “But… thank you. For doing this.” 

They’ve had this conversation before, but this time, Shiemi has the chance to shake her head and reply before he drops out. “You don’t have to apologize, Rin,” she says, sitting on the edge of his bed and combing his hair off his face with her fingers. He’s sweating, which is a good sign, but she doesn’t want to think about how miserable he is. And the way he leans into her hand hurts, too. “And you don’t have to thank me, either. I know you would do the same for me--no, the same for any of us. This is a part of what it means to be friends.” 

He blinks at her tiredly, but the smile that crosses his face, while soft, is as genuine a smile as ever, and she can’t help but return it. 

She stays up with him all night, nursing his fever, holding his hair out of his face the one time his stomach turns on him, soothing him through it and afterwards. He doesn’t apologize again and doesn’t put up a fight, but thanks her twice as much. She’d tell him not to thank her once more, but the fact that he’s stopped apologizing is enough. 


End file.
